


Parental Control: Chapter 10

by littlesalemwinchester74



Series: Parental Control [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesalemwinchester74/pseuds/littlesalemwinchester74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The betrayal sinks in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parental Control: Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to take a second to say that despite what I may write in this story, I DO NOT ENDORSE OR ADVOCATE DRIVING DRUNK. I don't care how good you think you are, YOU NEED TO STAY OFF THE ROAD. Please. Please please please be safe, please be smart. You are so precious. Human life is so precious. Don't risk it--yours or anyone else's. Just get a ride. End rant.

It only took an hour for Dean to decide to turn his phone off. The endless stream of phone calls and texts from his so-called family was driving him crazy. He took the battery out for good measure and stuffed it under the couch cushions. The shell of the phone landed somewhere in his bedroom, but between the fury, the betrayal, and the whiskey, Dean couldn't care.   
Soon the fury faded and the betrayal was overwhelming. Dean sat on his kitchen floor, leaning against a cabinet with the bottle of whiskey in one hand and his head in the other. He'd given up trying to hold off the pain and let it wash over him. Tears were streaming down his face and he felt like his heart was completely shattered.   
Dean was used to his Dad pulling ridiculous bullshit. Kate always went along with whatever John did, so did Adam. Sam had been in California and likely not a part of this ridiculous plan at all, but Jo? Mom? How could they?   
Mary had let John talk her into this. Jo had let Mary and John use her to pull Dean in. Their betrayal cut deep and ached like nothing else could.   
The hours passed. Dean was two bottles of whiskey in when he relocated from the kitchen floor to his bed, third bottle in hand. Soon his pillow was soaked with tears and he knew he should be embarrassed, but he was too hurt to care. Dean had had his fair share of heartache in his time, but nothing had ever hurt him the way this was hurting him.   
People were fickle. They did what they had to do to serve their own purpose. People were inherently selfish. Dean knew that. But he had never...never seen his mother and sister that way. The fact that they had disregarded his feelings and completely ignored the fact that he was a grown-ass man who was perfectly capable of thinking for himself and making his own decisions and used him to accomplish something for themselves...  
Dean was broken, and this time, he wasn't sure if he could be fixed.   
XXX  
The apartment was dark when Dean's eyes opened again. He could feel every beat of his heart behind his eyes and his stomach was mimicking the ocean during a storm. He was disoriented and exhausted to the bone. What time was it?  
Dean felt as though he'd run a marathon. His entire body ached. The pain and betrayal had settled in deep beneath his skin, poisoning his blood and infecting his muscles. Though he'd just woken up, his eyes were heavy and he felt as though he hadn't slept in a month.   
How long had he been out? He didn't even remember passing out, but it was clear he had. Dean reached his hand out and, bracing himself for more pain, clicked on the bedside lamp. Sure enough, spikes of agony shot through his head at the sudden brightness. Dean breathed through the intensity and tried to make sense of his surroundings.   
The third bottle of whiskey, now empty, was on the floor next to the bed. He knew he'd drunk the whole thing because the lid was screwed back on, which meant it couldn't have spilled. The blinds were open and the sky outside was black and littered with stars. The alarm clock on the bedside table read 3:46 AM.   
The next thing Dean realized was that he desperately needed to pee. He struggled upright and stumbled into the bathroom, not daring to turn on the overhead light just yet. His head was still trying to recover from the onslaught of the lamp. As he was washing his hands, he noticed how dry his mouth was, and the awful taste in it. He brushed his teeth as vigorously as his head would allow and gulped down as much tap water as his stomach could hold. Then he shuffled back into the bedroom, collapsing on his bed in a dejected heap.   
Dean must have fallen asleep again, because when next he opened his eyes, the sun was up and his head was pounding in protest. He realized his alarm was going off and smacked the top of the clock a little harder than was necessary. He rolled onto his back and groaned, desperately wishing he could stay in bed all day instead of having to go to work.   
But alas, that could not be. One scalding hot shower, two pieces of toast, another vicious tooth-brushing, a heroic dose of Advil, and several glasses of water later, Dean locked up the apartment behind himself and made his way at a zombie pace to his car. The sound of the engine hurt his head and the sunlight hurt his eyes, but none of that compared to the hurt still plaguing his heart. He wondered how long it would take to get past the worst of it.   
He was still wondering when he killed the engine in his parking spot at the garage, and when he walked through the side door to the small office where his time card waited in its slot next to the old time stamp machine on the wall. The shabby room was empty, which meant Bobby and Ellen were both in the garage itself. Sure enough, Dean heard a drill whir to life, which only served to intensify his headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he punched his time card. His box was empty and there were no appointment slips in the to-do folder, so he meandered out into the garage to get assignment directly from Bobby.   
There were two lifts in the garage, and both were currently occupied. A shiny blue Prius was up on the one closest to the office door, and Dean could see Ellen's legs poking out from underneath it as she worked on the car. He offered a halfhearted good morning as he passed, but he was pretty sure she didn't hear him over the scream of the tools she was using. Bobby was in the process of rotating the tires on a red Mustang, but he stopped his work and fixed Dean with a glare that meant he was in serious trouble.   
“And just where the Hell have you been, boy?” Bobby's voice was gruffer than usual.  
“What? I'm not even late,” Dean protested.   
“Today! What about yesterday?”  
“Yesterday was Sunday, the garage was closed.”  
Bobby looked at Dean like he was worried that maybe he was going crazy. “You need to quit drinkin', boy. Yesterday was Monday, and you were supposed to be here. I was up to my ears in oil changes and flat tires and Ellen had to run herself ragged watchin' the office and doin' what she could to help me. As for you, you didn't call and your phone was off. No one knew where you were. I called your mom and she was just as worried about you.” Bobby shook his head in disgust. “Now I have half a mind to fire you for not showing up, but I ought to beat you for what you're puttin' your poor mom through. Mary's a good lady, Dean, and she don't deserve this.”  
“Don't talk to me about my mother,” Dean spat. “You don't know what she deserves. You don't know what she did.” He sighed and tried to calm himself down. Getting angry wouldn't do anybody any good. “Look, Bobby, I'm sorry. I really had no idea. When I woke up this morning, it was quarter to four. I went back to sleep and got up with my alarm. I really had no idea it was Tuesday...I don't know how I slept through an entire day.”  
Bobby looked concerned now, so Dean knew the tongue-lashing was over. “You all right, son? You look like Hell.”  
“Yeah, I'm all right,” Dean lied wearily, rubbing a hand over his face. “Or I will be. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Put me to work.”  
Dean ended up taking over for Ellen on the Prius so she could get back to the office. She wasn't technically supposed to be on the floor—she only worked on the cars when Bobby and Dean were really swamped or when one of them wasn't in. He felt bad she'd had to work a whole day for him, but when he told her so, she waved him off and kissed his cheek, telling him she was just glad he was okay before disappearing behind the desk to work on invoices.   
The day passed with all the speed of cold molasses. Dean took most of the cars that came in, leaving Bobby free to do as he pleased, but even still they only had two appointments and three walk-ins the whole day. Five o'clock rolled around and Dean punched his time card again, promised Bobby and Ellen he'd be in at eight the next morning, and headed home, ready to shower and spend the rest of the night in bed. But when he unlocked his apartment door, his plans got shot to Hell. Leaning against his kitchen counter with her arms crossed over her chest and tears pooling in her eyes was his mother.   
“We need to talk,” Mary said by way of greeting.   
Dean dropped his head back against the door. His night just got a hell of a lot worse.


End file.
